Crochet Conspiracy
by fezwearingjellybananas
Summary: The British Government, a Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard, a pathologist, an ex-army doctor now GP, an ex-assassin and a land lady. Sounds like the start of a bad joke? Or maybe a plan for world domination? All right, maybe Sherlock's overreacting, but there's only one person he can ask for help. And she plans to do what? (Knitting fic)


Sherlock walked into 221B, right into the middle of a conspiracy.

Mrs Hudson, Molly Hooper, Greg Lestrade, and John Watson were sitting in a circle doing something. A mysterious something. At least they had the decency to look guilty when they hid the something from Sherlock. Mary Watson nee Morstan entered the room with a tray of tea followed by- Mycroft Holmes?

Everyone looked at Sherlock, not saying anything. He backed out the room, grabbing something off the table pretending he'd just gone back to get that, and disappeared out the front door.

They were up to something. And none of the criminals in London were doing anything so that left Sherlock's time open to investigate the conspiracy currently occurring in his front room.

He couldn't do it alone. He didn't need help, no, that's not what he was saying at all. He needed an inside man, someone who could help him get information, someone who would be equally concerned about the terrible things which might be happening. But who did he know? Not Anderson, he refused to work with Anderson. And it was his friends leading the conspiracy, which left just one option.

He was going to regret this.

* * *

><p>"Sally, dear, sweet Sally."<p>

"What do you want? Lestrade's not here."

"It was you I was after, Sergeant Donovan."

"Why?"

"The British Government, a Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard, a pathologist, an ex-army doctor now GP, an ex-assassin, and a land lady."

"Sounds like the start of a long, bad joke."

"They're doing something."

"The British Government doing something with a land lady. What, tax evasion? Not my job."

"I doubt Mycroft has ever missed a penny of his tax, he's very keen on setting a good example."

"Mycroft?"

"Yes, that's what we tend to call him. He insists he's not the British Government, but we all know better. He also hates to be called Mikey, so any opportunity you have to use that, please do."

"Mycroft. With a name like that he could only be your relative."

"Older brother. I need a spy."

"No."

"Lestrade's there."

"And I suppose Doctor Hooper and Doctor Watson are you pathologist and ex-army doctor. So is Mrs Hudson the land lady? Which leaves your ex-assassin."

"Mary, John's wife. No time for details."

"All these people know each other."

"Yes."

"And all these people are friends or married?"

Sherlock laughed. "Mycroft, friends?"

"I've never heard you laugh. Even if it is to be rude about your brother."

"Mycroft was the one who told me that normal people were goldfish and caring was not an advantage, that I shouldn't get attached."

"And you never thought he knew that from experience?"

"Don't know why I bothered coming to you. Good day, Sergeant."

"Sherlock, wait."

"You said my name."

"I felt terrible about what happened. I know we're not friends, I don't expect us to be friends, but could we maybe start again? Unless you prove there's something off, I can't do anything, and Greg is my boss."

"Gregory is plotting something, I can feel it."

"Thought you didn't know his name?"

"Again Sergeant, little brother."

"Little brothers are the worst. Mine's bad enough, I pity your brother, ending up with you and your weird genius thing."

"If it makes you feel any better, he's the smart one. Do not, under any circumstances, ever, _ever _tell him I said that."

"I know. What do you need me to do?"

"The usual, perhaps. You lot normally used drugs bust as a way to ransack my personal belongings, don't you?"

"Or maybe I could just ask."

"But then they'll know. And they might recruit you into their plan to oversee the downfall of civilisation."

"Somehow I doubt that's what they're doing, but I'll have a look."

* * *

><p>"Well?" Sherlock asked as she left the house.<p>

"It's not the downfall of civilisation if that's what you mean. It's perfectly harmless, although you're right about you not being allowed to know what it is. Doctor Hooper suggested you go down to the morgue if you want something to do."

"She's the only one there that likes me."

"I haven't got any cases for you to solve."

"You don't have an Anderson to find?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Do you know anything about lives outside of work, Sherlock?"

"John has a wife. And sometimes you have to take your parents to the opera. "

"You're useless. Well, you can't go back to 221B, you'll be in the way."

"I need a case."

"You could help with a robbery."

"Too simple, it'll take minutes."

"In that case, you're coming with me and we'll go through all the cold cases at Scotland Yard."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

"You said you didn't expect us to become friends, Sally, yet you offer up hundreds of cases. That could take all night."

"I think they might be counting on it."

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, are those cigarettes?"<p>

"Yes. The nicotine patches are back at the flat."

"Your best friend is a doctor."

"We- Yes." Sherlock cut himself off before insulting her, she was being nice to him, he could at least try and be nice back.

"And he approves? With all the medical evidence showing how bad smoking is for you?"

"He tolerates it."

"Which means he doesn't approve."

"He prefers the patches. It helps me think."

"Then you need something else which will let your brain calm down."

"And you know something?"

"Of course I do, Sherlock. You're not the only one who sometimes needs to find a way to concentrate their brain on one thing."

"What do you use then?"

"Crochet."

"You?"

"Yes. Me. You know what crochet is, don't you?"

"It's like knitting."

"Only with a hook instead of two needles. I can show you."

She pulled something out of her bag. Sherlock watched as she looped yarn over her hook before pulling it trough, forming a shape. Interesting. Perhaps John would appreciate this more than smoking and nicotine patches. He was fond of his jumpers, this seemed to be the way people make them. Sally made it look easy, it shouldn't be too hard for him to learn.

"Here, my spare hook."

"For what?"

"You're sitting there watching, you might as well try it. Start by making a loop knot, then you just wrap around and pull, like this." She showed him and when he'd eventually got his head around that (so she was deceiving him with its easiness) they moved on to the first row and the second row and after that it was pretty much the same. And it was certainty giving his mind a rest. Perhaps he'd have to take it up when he didn't have any cases.

* * *

><p>Sherlock jerked his head awake, slightly bemused by his surroundings. He appeared to be in Scotland Yard, in the room where they kept the files of all the old cold cases. Sally Donovan was opposite him. Both of them had yarn on their laps. And his neck hurt, probably from where he'd slept on a chair, not a bed.<p>

Sergeant Donovan was also waking up, disorientated.

"I suppose we didn't solve many cold cases then."

"No. The one we were looking at was the ex-wife."

"Fancy making an arrest?"

* * *

><p>It was midday before Sherlock returned to Baker Street, Sally accompanying him. She said something about seeing Lestrade. Why he was still in Baker Street Sherlock didn't know, but they'd quickly popped into a yarn shop on the way. Sherlock hadn't seen what Sally had got, but he'd picked her up some wool to replace the bits he'd used.<p>

The conspiracy of Baker Street must have continued through the night because even Mycroft was still there. John was the first to speak up.

"Happy birthday Sherlock."

"What?"

"Happy birthday," Molly said. "Mycroft mentioned it, and Greg knew."

"Birthday?"

"Yes, the anniversary of when you were born," John said.

"That's not for another week."

"No brother dear, it's today. What an excellent grasp of the date you have."

"Told you they weren't planning the downfall of civilisation," Sally said.

"And we're glad to see you and Sergeant Donovan are getting along now," Greg said. "I hear there's been an arrest. Whatever you two did, it worked."

"Crocheted," Sherlock said. "She didn't want me to smoke."

"I've been trying to get you to not smoke for years and Sally Donovan succeeds in an evening with crochet?" John asked. "I don't believe this. If I'd known that would work Mrs Hudson and I would have tried knitting years ago."

"Also," Mary said. "Why would you think we were planning the downfall of civilisation?"

"Mycroft was involved. I may have over reacted."

"Just a little."

"What were you doing?"

"Planning."

"Mary and Mycroft made the cake," John said. "While the four of us finished your gift. Greg is remarkably good at wrapping."

Mrs Hudson handed him the parcel.

"Happy birthday Sherlock."

He unwrapped it slowly, revealing a jumper like John and Molly's.

"You crochet, we knit," Molly smiled.

"Thank you." He pulled the jumper over his head, not used to wearing such a thing, but it was warm.

"I'll fetch the candles," Mrs Hudson said. "We'll have the cake, shall we?"

"Well, that is the only reason Mycroft's here." Mycroft rolled his eyes at his little brother's comment. "Shouldn't you be running the country?"

"I'm sure they can last one day without incident."

Sherlock turned to Sally.

"Thank you, for yesterday."

"Don't mention it."

"It was very kind of you. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye in the past but-"

"I mean it. Don't tell anyone, especially not Anderson."

"Are you two coming for cake or not?" John said. "Hurry up, we're waiting on you Sherlock."

"We're coming."

Sherlock smiled, looking around at the people that meant the most to him, glad he was finally home.


End file.
